


A Degree Of Separation (Or Two)

by coarseCorsair



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, its sappy and somewhat nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coarseCorsair/pseuds/coarseCorsair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, live, shoot your ex as part of a botched deal.</p>
<p>Regular relationship problems, really.</p>
<p>Alternatively: Aphra is a terrible girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a fic for the femslash rarepair a total of...five people ship? enjoy!

Her mouth tastes of blood. An odd tingling sensation courses through her jaw. Grime and muck cover her gloves.

She looks up.

“It's nothing personal, just business,” says Aphra, heading towards her ship, the Ark Angel.

“…going for the clichés, really? Really? What's next? 'It's not you, it's me?'”

“In my defense, it is 100 percent me.”

Sana grits her teeth. She is infuriatingly charming, despite (or because?) of the occasional banality or two. Her carefree attitude, the way she snorts when she laughs, how soft her hair felt against her fingers...it all tangles together, just making her love Aphra more.

At least, it used to.

Aphra pulls the trigger. It's not enough to kill, but she figures that it'll sort itself out.

The last thing Sana hears is the clanging of boots on metal.

\------

“Take pity on a married woman, Doc?”

“Married or no, seventy five percent is still seventy five percent.”

She scoffs. “Fine, seventy percent.”

“Fifty.”

“Sixty five if you show me your doctorate.”

“Fifty five if you show me that 'husband' of yours...Sano, Samo, Sorbo?”

“Solo.”

“Oh, yeah! Sobo.”

Sana chuckles. Aphra does too. They continue laughing, earning them a lot of awkward stares from the rest of the bars'...patrons.

“Alright, let's get back to business. See this? This is my business face.”

“Your business face has a wicked big grin on it.”

She blushes, turning her gaze away from Sana. Sana taps her shoulder.

“Let's finish this arrangement somewhere more...private, hmm?”

Aphra giggles. “You cannot be serious.”

“I was going to leave anyway. The drinks taste like bantha shit. Well, they probably are bantha shit.”

“Lead the way then, big girl.”

\------

Various bits and bobs of gadgetry litter the apartment. The scent of what seems to be burnt metal permeates throughout the air. Aphra is lying on her bed, tinkering with a blaster, tapping it repeatedly.

“I'm pretty sure it's working, Doc.”

“No, no, it's not that, I just...I just need to keep my fingers occupied all the time. I need to do _something_.”

She sighs and puts the blaster away. Sana lies down next to her. Her hand brushes against Aphra's cheek.

“Could you take your glove off? It feels...weird.”

She complies.

“Well? C'mon, I know you can do better.”

“I'll do it for sixty five percent.”

“Haggling? In _bed_?” She tries to fake shock, but fails miserably, bursting into laughter instead.

She kisses Sana on the lips. It's short, but not too short. It leaves her longing for more, however. Sana quickly kisses back, her fingers tangled in Aphra's hair.

“Hmph. That's good, but not sixty five percent good,” she snickers.

“Only so much I can do when you're fully clothed, you know.”

“Uh, so are you, big girl.”

“...shit, you're right.” 

Aphra helps her take off her scarf. Or is it a robe? She's always been baffled by Sana's choice of clothing. Sure, it's more efficient, but it's also tacky and garish and makes her shiver just touching it.  
Opinions on garment aside, she helps Sana slip out of her suit.

She can't help but be distracted by her, and the way the red sunset colors her skin.

For the first time in a while, she's calm.

“Aphra, are you in there?”

“Oh, um, sorry, I was...distracted.”

Sana chuckles, and kisses her again.

Aphra takes to removing her clothes. Hers are simple, elegant, stylish. Sure, they don't have enough room for a blaster (Sana's been pestering her about getting a holster lately, she should probably get to that), but she'll just talk her way out of a situation; Well, either do that or run away, really really fast.

She realizes she's stark naked for the first time in a while. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. Sana scoots over to her.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I am, I'm just...thinking.”

She pauses, looking pensive.

“Well, I mean, I've been with people before, just not someone like you.”

Sana raises an eyebrow.

“By someone do you mean someone who's killed people or someone incredibly charming and attractive?”

She giggles in that way that Sana finds so endearing. 

Sana lies down on the bed proper, arms stretched out. Aphra's still seated at the edge.

“C'mon, we'll go at your pace, Doc,” she says, making a 'come hither' motion.

Aphra moves closer, situating herself on top of Sana, putting Sana's thigh between her legs, leaving a small kiss on her forehead.

She starts grinding against her thigh. Sana puts her hands on her hips. Sana kisses her, longer this time. Sana tastes of smoke and metal and it should be off putting but it just isn't.

Sana moves her hands up up Aphra's body, thumbs brushing against her nipples.

“Jeez, I didn't know you were an even bigger tease in bed,” she mutters between breaths.

“Gotta prep you for the ride somehow.”

She bursts out laughing. “Oh, mother of moons, Sana, you _can't_ be serious!”

Sana blushes.

“Nah, I'll do it, but only because you're so cute.”

“Oh, ah, really?”

“Yeah. Really.”


	2. A Conversation With A Farmboy

The kitchen of the Rebel Alliance flagship is rather spacious, stocked with various packets of paste and nutrient bars that at one point might have even resembled food, possibly. Sana brings two plastic cups to a table in the middle of the room. The drinks are warm and have a sweet, spicy aroma to them, in stark contrast to the cold and sterile air.

 

Luke takes a sip. It's different, to say the least; it's not blue, for starters; it also actually tastes good. “Oh, wow...where'd you learn how to make this stuff?”

 

Sana chuckles. “Old friend of Han's taught me. Dunno if he's still alive...never had much of a survival instinct, as far as I recall. Kept telling him to get a blaster, he said it was for 'suckers'.”

 

She takes a sip from her cup.

 

“So, was she your...” he asks.

 

“You don't have to be coy about that, kid. But the answer's yes.”

 

“You do know she almost killed me, right?”

 

“She tends to do that to people she likes.”

 

“That doesn't seem right.”

 

He has a charming sort of naivete to him, Sana thinks to herself, that kind of...not innocence, but lightness of spirit. She assures herself that that's an actual phrase people use.

 

“Why's that?”

 

“If she loved you, she wouldn't hurt you, right? But even if she did...she can't be beyond redemption, I'm sure of it.”

 

“Maybe she isn't,” she sighs, “but it's...it's a process, not just a done-in-one thing.”

 

He takes another sip.

 

“Say, um, what do you call this stuff, exactly?”

 

“What, the drink?”

 

“Yeah,” he replies.

 

“Oh, that’s hot chocolate.”

 

* * *

  
Nar Shaddaa isn’t exactly what one would call a romantic holiday destination or a fitting spot for a rendezvous, but as one of the leading galactic hives of scum and villainy, it’s at least free from pesky Imperial regulations; that, and the bars are cheap. Aphra waits in one of the many alleys that are littered throughout the undercity, and twiddles her thumbs. Hopefully Sana got the message. She hears footsteps.

 

It’s her.

 

“I thought you were dead. At least, I'd _hoped_ you were dead,” Sana says.

 

“Oh, you know what they say, birds fly, fish swim, Aphra narrowly avoids being executed by Imperials.”

 

“No one has said that. Ever.”

 

“Okay, maybe, but you know what I mean, right? Right?” Aphra asks, hand running past her cheek, foot tapping on the ground.

 

“Are you gonna keep avoiding the subject? Because you came to me, not the other way around.”

 

“About that...I thought maybe we could discuss...us?”

 

“I'm pretty sure we already did that in jail.”

 

“Well, this time we won't have the imminent threat of death on our hands!”

 

“Hooray.”

 

The tapping becomes louder, and more frequent.

 

“I mean, we kind of got off on the wrong foot back there, didn't we?” She scratches the back of her head, sweat dripping down her face.

 

“Seemed like the right foot to me.”

 

“Okay, now _you're_ the one saying nonsense.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

An awkward silence lingers in the air.

 

“What do I have to do to make you forgive me?!”

 

“I don't know!” she snaps. “I thought you would help, I thought you wouldn't leave me behind, like everyone else has. I was wrong, and I paid for that.” Her breathing is erratic, her fingers are twitching, her cheeks are wet with tears.

 

“I thought...I thought you didn't care.”

 

“If I hadn't cared, I wouldn't have bothered, I would've just killed you. But I couldn't, and I can't.”

 

“Okay, fine! We both have commitment issues, doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. You happy now?”

 

She doesn't respond.

 

“Alright, I screwed up, a lot. I did things I'm not proud of and I want to fix that. More importantly, I wanna help you. Because you're what's most important and you're who I care for the most. I know it's gonna take a long time, I know it's not gonna be easy, and I know you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna do it regardless...and, well, we'll go at your own pace, right?”

 

“That's real sweet and all but, like you said, we'll go at my pace, and what I need right now is some alone time.”

 

“I understand.”

 

Just as Aphra is about to walk away, Sana stops her.

 

“Listen, call me in a couple of days, will you? I can hook you up with the right contacts, you could do some good.”

 

“I was thinking something along the lines of 'far away exotic planet with tons of drinks and no Imps', perhaps?”

 

“Don't push your luck.”

 

“Are you using clichés now? The scandal!” she shouts, covering her mouth in fake shock, barely managing to contain her laughter.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Well, um, I guess this is goodbye?”

 

Sana grabs her hand, squeezing just a little too tightly.

 

“For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well...this took longer than expected, and i apologize immensely for that! my own laziness, coupled with internet problems and preparing for college kind of did a number on me! id like to thank the same people as before, as well as anyone who was patient enough to bother waiting for the next part!
> 
> while this is the last part of the star wars fic, i also have some rather...dishonorable things in store, if you catch my drift.

**Author's Note:**

> jfc this took a fucking LONG time to write
> 
> a super special shoutout to tumblr user reybiwalker for beta reading this mess, ao3 user spacemagic for consultation (and bad jokes) and to everyone who helped me out emotionally while i was panicking about writing


End file.
